


A Nightmare Come True

by hannibanni753



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:59:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibanni753/pseuds/hannibanni753
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a Sunday night, due to a favour that M owed, Q is asked to help out with some immediate security issues at - as it happens to be - his former university. Obligingly, as the exemplary Quartermaster that he is, albeit grugdingly, Q complies with M's wishes.<br/>Whereas he's not keen on facing a place of his past he was eager to get away from swiftly, he's oblivious to the fact that there are others who anticipate the reunion with their old acquaintance...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nightmare Come True

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

Q had never wanted to come back to this place. And yet, here he was on a Sunday night, revisiting his old university. M had said it was a favour, an emergency. Great. So now the Quartermaster of MI6 was being abused as tech support for university servers. And to top all that, he couldn't do it from Q-Branch. He was supposed to overwrite the whole security systems, because there had apparently been breaches more frequently in the last few weeks.  
And for that he had to undo everything on site. It didn't improve his mood.

There was a reason he went through uni in half the time - well, besides the fact that he was way too clever to take as long as the regular student. Let's say he hadn't been popular. At all. What he had to admit was, that a lot of it he had brought upon himself. He had been arrogant, cold and demeaning on a good day, because he couldn't be bothered with IQs half as high as his own. So whenever someone tried to initiate something like a friendly conversation, he had blocked it. His belief was that they all had just wanted to take advantage of his abilities. And he had no time for this. He worked better alone anyway. So they left him alone.

But there had also been those people who couldn't accept boundaries. One gang in particular was very insisting. They had set it in their mind that they could bully Q into some shady business. But Q had known how to handle them. A little hacking here and there, and the records of any kind of achievements had been erased. They would have to start at ground level again - if they chose to.

Q wasn't cruel, he could have erased their existence completely. He had looked at it like a warning sign, and had hoped they would get the hint. At least, he hadn't been bothered by them ever since, though they might have gotten in a lot of trouble they had to sort out. He left university a few months after that anyway. Making his calculations, they would have to be studying here still in their final year, after his little correction, if they had chosen to do it all over again. That he doubted though. None of them had seemed very bright to him or had particularly shown some stamina. But if he ever met them again, it wouldn't end well for him, he guessed.

Especially in a dark alley like this, he thought as he got out of his cab. It was pouring - of course it was. And the side entrance - the reason he got out here to be quick about this whole annoying business - was locked, too. So he had to go around the whole block to find the main entrance, where the caretaker would probably wait for him to let him in. He shivered at the cold that seeped through his clothes as he started walking and drew his coat closer.

The whole complex of buildings towered over him ghostly with all the lights out and not a soul around. Something about the scenario made his skin crawl and he sped up. He felt like somebody was watching him but dismissed the feeling. When he finally stepped into the entrance hall of the main building, which was flooded by lights, he felt enormously relieved, more than he wanted to admit to himself. It was silly, really.

The man who greeted him smelled of cigarettes and in dire need of a shower. Great. Hopefully he was done within an hour, so he could be home before midnight, he thought to himself, as he was led to the part of the building where the main server was set up. He thanked the man - although he would have found his way well on his own - and got to work.

Glad that he was alone now and safe against wind and weather, he relaxed a bit. If he was honest to himself, he even enjoyed the quiet, now that there was no beeping and blinking and all the minions that needed his grooming attention. He could completely focus on the task at hand. He was suprised to feel the reluctance when he shut down the server. He put a reminder to himself to make sure of more 'alone-time' at MI6 in the future, when he closed the door to head down the hallway.

And there was the prickling feeling again!

"If that's not our old friend Oliver, right there!"

Speak of the devil! Q turned around to see the leader of that old gang, Ian, leaning against the wall. Bugger.

"You disappeared right off the face of the earth when you left uni! That left us no time to say our goodbyes... and since you made us such a remarkable parting gift, you imagine how heart-broken I was at not being able to return the favour, and all because of your abrupt departure."

How could he have known that Q would be here tonight? He drew a slow breath. There was noone there to witness his arrival except - oooh, the caretaker!

Before Q could think of an answer or even brace himself, he was slammed against the wall. There was such a force behind the guy's blow that it knocked the air right out of his lungs. It took him a moment after the shock to gather enough of himself to push back. But Ian was all muscles (if nothing else) and Q's head was spinning from the impact. He had barely enough air to breathe, let alone scream for help. Additionally to his disadvantage in vigorousness, his position left him in an angle with no leverage. So he was helpless against the dizziness that started to set in.

When he was about to faint, Ian stepped back just enough for Q to take a sharp breath. Air flooded his burning lungs, as much as relief.

But the latter didn't last for long, when Ian gripped at Q's throat. Panic rose in his chest and he tried to shove his opponent away, who viciously forced Q's tie off and pushed him to the floor. Q had to break the fall with his hands. He got no time to think, however, because that brick of a man was on him within a second, and Q was pressed flat against the floor. Desperately, he kicked and flailed his arms about, but couldn't get a hold of something.

"For a skinny bastard that you are, you are squirming quite fiercely, I'll give you that."

That son of a bitch wasn't even out of breath. To Q's horror, while sitting on Q, he twisted his arms painfully behind his back and tucked them between his own knees, so he could easily wrap Q's tie around his wrists and tie him up roughly. When he was done, he got up to look at his work. Q tried to move his hands, but the restraints were so tight that the blood supply was disrupted. Soon Q's hands would go numb.

He winced and the panic expanded further. He needed his hands more than anything. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins now, but there was nothing he could do. As he tried to turn himself around to crawl away, he was grabbed by the collar and pulled in a dark corner of the hallway, only to be forced on his stomach again.

"Please, stop!" In a panicked voice he tried to reason. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to shut up!"

The other answered, kicking him into his side. Q crouched down, groaning in pain. Otherwise he remained silent. Satisfied, the cruel man got down again and took a hold of Q's trousers and pants and pushed them down with a force that left a red streak on Q's thighs. Terrified of where this was going, Q tried to scramble away again, but he was mercilessly rid of all his clothing from the waist down.

Q started shivering uncontrollably. He couldn't handle that. There was a reason he was no field agent. As useful as he was with his intelligence, he wasn't made for action and violence. So when the man spread his legs and started to loosen his own belt, Q lost all of his composure and started begging.

"Please, Ian, d-don't do that - I'll do anything you wa-..."

Something was shoved into his mouth. His face was pressed with the side down, as he felt hot breath on his neck, that made his skin crawl.

"I told you to shut it, sucker! You're gonna get what you deserve now!"

With no preparation whatsover he pressed against Q's hole and brutally pushed his errection in. A searing pain shot up Q's spine and consumed him. He writhed in a blinding panic, screams muffled by the cloth in his mouth. But the more he fought, the more forceful the other would grip his hips and pound into him.

Despite the unceasing pain, Q went limp after a while. He was helpless, and he wanted it to just be over. It took an eternity, until the other man pulled back and released his semen all over Q's back, tied hands and rumpled clothes. He felt blood dripping down where his muscles had been torn. Otherwise he just laid there numb, unable to cope with the violation of his body. His gaze was distant, his breathing shallow and his body unmoving and beaten, except for a few single tremors of his limbs. Cold sweat glued his clothes and hair to his skin and mixed with the tears that had silently run down his face.

"Now, now. You're not sad that we're already done, are you?!" As he got no reaction, he went on: "I was thinking that maybe I might take you in the library, at your favourite spot? For old times sake!"

His eyes glistened maliciously.

"But of course, I can't move you there by myself. I think the guys of the old gang would love to see you again! And maybe they'd even love to give you a try."

 _It wasn't over?_ Slowly Q grasped the meaning of his words and dread showed in his eyes as he looked up at his rapist. That was apparently what Ian was waiting for, since a vicious grin spread across his face and he got his phone out to call the others. Paralyzed Q watched as the other got in touch with his mates. The old gang... A bunch of brainless people who had an equally build as Ian - and they were about to 'reunite' with him. _Nonononono..._

"Great - now all's settled. They'll be here in a few minutes!" Q was informed.

Despite the hot pain that throbbed at his torn flesh, he felt a cold settle in his bones that had nothing to do with temperature. Q wasn't sure if he was going to survive this.

\---qb----

Four men had come. Q had recognized them vaguely as part of that gang, but concerning their names, he couldn't care less.

They had dragged him to the library where he had used to study. Q had no energy left to fight them, not that he would have stood a chance.

He was scared.

What would they do to him, _after?_ Were they capable of murder? He didn't want to die. Not like this.

What would they declare at MI6? A raped Quartermaster sure wouldn't bring any prestige to the position. Maybe they'd say it was an overdose. That he'd been overstrained and too young after all...

He was jerked back into the present, when he was gripped by two of them on either side and brought forward. Just then he realized what they had done. Two desks were shoved together to create a bigger platform, which he now was thrown onto. He grimaced with pain from the impact and tried to fold into himself, but his legs were mercilessly pulled to the corners and cuffed to the table legs. Only now they cut the tie off his wrists and pain surged through his hands. Without giving him a break they were pulled to the other ends of the tables and also cuffed.

So now he loosely laid there in his old library, limbs spread and his already violated behind exposed to five men that meant him harm. And to his horror, they now slowly pulled the tables away from each other to create a gap underneath his body. He was now practically suspended in mid-air. The purpose, of course, was to strain his limbs and muscles and joints and immobilize him further. If his throat weren't so raw already and his body so exhausted he might have started screaming.

And apparently his body wasn't so exhausted after all, since, when the first one came closer, he tensed up and a panic attack threatened to swallow him whole.

\---qb----

One would think, after the first penetration, the pain couldn't get much worse, the injury couldn't become more massive... But Q found that it could. Lying there, spread out like a piece of meat, he had no leverage whatsoever, his cock dangling sadly, smeared with blood and semen from when one after the other had their turn. So when he was fucked again and again, he was shoved forward, rubbing painfully against the table edges, straining his limbs - ankles and wrists sore and bleeding.

Ian had positioned himself right in his field of view and watched every emotion that crossed Q's face in satisfaction. There were moments when he desperately had wished for unconsciousness. But then again - if there was a god, he had been looking the other way for quite some time now.

So Q just stared at a point on the floor and waited, adrenaline long gone. Now there was just agony. Q barely noticed when the last of them scattered his 'pleasure' all over him. Only when he heard Ian's voice speak, he listened up. This was the moment they decided his fate. If they had their wits about them, they'd kill him. But, knowing them...

"So... _Ollie_...... I hope you enjoyed the show?!" The leader of the gang grinned diabolically. "I know _we_ did!"

He gripped Q's hair and jerked his head up with one hand. Q groaned. The other hand took hold of his jaw and with a thumb Ian stroked his cheek almost gently. Then he removed the improvised gag from Q's mouth to embrace him in a sudden and vicious kiss. Q tried to pull away and got rewarded with a mean and long bite to his lip. As he whimpered, Ian removed the grip on Q's hair and he let his head fall back down. They left him like that in his humiliation.

\---qb----

Q didn't know what time it was, or how long he'd been there like that. He couldn't feel his arms and legs anymore. He was worn out and drifted in and out of a doze. Streams of thoughts wandered through his mind. How could something like this happen to a highly ranked MI6 employee? It was quite bizarre, he mused. Quartermaster. Him. That sounded strange. As Quartermaster you had to show you had backbone to manage to keep the agents in line. He didn't feel strong, he didn't feel like the Quartermaster. He didn't feel like himself. What he felt was... detached. Not at all like his mind belonged to a body, especially this one. The pain felt distant. But it still hurt so much he didn't want a body.

_Click._

Q startled and shrieked as he heard a voice in his ear.

"Boss? Boss, can you hear me? I've located you and you haven't moved one bit in over two hours. Is everything alright?"

He had left his ear piece in!! But he couldn't activate his side of the comms thanks to his restraints. So he didn't even bother answering. How was he supposed to activate it? It was useless. As soon as the shock transfered into hope, it was dismissed again by despair. They would come for him - eventually, but he doubted that if they found him like this, he'd get to keep his position as Q. Which was his whole life. He didn't want to think about the damage to his hands.

There was another _Click_.

"Sir, if you can hear me, please respond! Sir, this is R. I've remotely activated your ear piece in case you're compromised. If you are able to speak, please confirm your status!"

Q didn't trust his voice.

"If there is no response or movement within five minutes, I will send someone in."

Not good. He needed to contain this. So he tried to compose himself and started to speak very slowly and quietly.

"R. This is Q. I w-wasn't able to turn on th-the comms..." Damn it. "I am... I've been incapacitated. Please, can you send someone to get me? Someone discret?"

He had to stop to keep a sob from getting out.

"Boss? What's wrong?"

"Just send someone... and only one person if possible! I would very much appreciate it." He added meekly.

"But boss-"

"Please, R!" He all but begged. "And please turn the comms back off!"

There was a minute silence.

"Someone will be there within twenty minutes, boss. Signing off now. I'll be watching your vital signs though."

_Click._

And Q started to sob. He cried like a baby. The numbness had dissolved, and it hit him with a shocking clearity. He had been _raped_! He didn't know, if he was ever going to stop crying.

\---qb----

Bond had been sniffing around in Q-Branch, when R assigned him to retrieve Q. He had been the only one available at the moment that fit the purpose. R had only wanted to entrust the assignment to a Double-Oh and it seemed urgent.

What could have happened at a university that required his involvement? But as a Double-Oh he took every assignment seriously, especially when it concerned someone as highly-ranked as Q. Only when R confirmed via ear-piece that noone except for the Quartermaster and a caretaker was on the property, he relaxed a little. As soon as he arrived at the door to the library, where Q was supposed to be, he very un-agentlike knocked on the door before pushing it open.

"So, I heard someone needs a baby-sitter for getting home safely? Are you afraid of the dark, Quartermaster? Or afraid of getting lost?" He asked in a mocking tone, as he entered and added "Have you accidentally passed your bedtime-"

Then he froze, taking in the scenario - Q still half lying, half hanging helplessy between the two desks, his backside exposed and smeared with his attackers' bodily fluids, that had somewhat dried in the meantime. Bond closed the distance within a second. He swept the room with his eyes to make sure there was indeed nobody else there.

R on the other end of the comms must have noticed a change.

"What's wrong, 007? Please report."

Bond hesitated for a moment, because he wasn't sure what exactly to do right now. Report in what he saw? Was that in Q's best interest? He made a decision. He went around him to face Q directly, even if said man didn't look up or even move. He knelt down in front of him and checked for a pulse.

At the touch Q jerked back violently with a whimper. But he still didn't look up or say something.

"007!"

"R, I've got him. Signing off now."

"Bond, wait-"

_Click._

So now it was just the two of them.

\---qb----

When Q heard someone approach he tensed up immediately.

Then he heard his voice. Bond! Of all people, why did it have to be _Bond?!_

He was the most disrespecting agent of them all, and especially concerning him. Whenever Q had told him to do something, Bond made sure to do the exact opposite, just to show that he could and get away with it. Q needed his strength to handle Bond, which he could not gather right now. It was just impossible. And now Double-Oh-Seven would find him in the most vulnerable state of his life.

He barely heard what Bond was saying. Apparently he was talking to R, as he got closer. Q dared not look at him, when he got down in front of him. The only thing he could manage right now, was playing dead... or rather unconscious, to not have to deal with that confrontation.

But then - without any warning - Bond touched his throat, and he flinched instantly, shying away as far as his restraints allowed, which wasn't much. He grimaced, and with all that tension back, he started to shake again. He tried to adjust his position, grasp the edges of the tables to shift a bit of weight, but it was hopeless. He didn't trust his voice, so he didn't dare speak either.

After a moment of silence, Bond got up again and wandered around to his backside.

"I'm going to examine how much damage there is, all right?!"

He got a fair warning, but he just couldn't bear it, when Bond touched him THERE. He jerked up wildy.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!!" Crying in sheer panic, his voice broke and he started to hyperventilate and struggle.

"Hold still, Q, please! I'm not going to hurt you! Shhhh!"

Bond pulled away, shocked at the violent reaction. But of course, it made sense. He'd seen a lot of rape victims on his missions. He should have thought of the aftermath. He wanted to give Q the distance he wanted, but at the same time he wanted to hug him tight and tell him that nobody was ever going to hurt him again. Choosing a little bit of both, he said:

"All right, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. I'll just get those cuffs off you, first!"

He got no response except for more sobbing and shaking. So he swiftly picked the locks of the cuffs on Q's right side, while trying to make as little skin contact as possible. With his arm released, Q drew it in, shifted onto the left table and buried his face in his elbow. Bond made quick work with the cuffs of his right foot, so Q could lie completely on just one table, while Bond got rid of the rest of the cuffs.

As soon as he was done with that, he watched the clumsy attempts of Q to curl up on the table and to cover himself - still no eye-contact and shaking all the time - Bond's heart broke twice over.

He stepped behind Q, threw his suit jacket over his shoulders and hugged him from behind. For an instant, Q froze, but then he writhed and tried to break free frantically.

"Let go of me!!! BOND! Get away _now!!_ "

However, with his limbs burning from the blood coming back and Bond three times stronger, there was just no way. Bond held him tight, careful not to harm him, but unrelenting, and started rubbing soothing circles into Q's skin.

"Shhhh, I'm not going to hurt you. It's all right! You're safe now, I promise! Shhh..."

And after a while, just as he was about to let go of Q - afraid he'd chosen the wrong approach -

"Don't!" Bond barely heard the whisper. "Don't let go, please!"

"But it doesn't seem to help you... You don't seem to be able to relax under my touch!" He interjected carefully.

"I-I'm trying." It was heartbreaking.

Slowly, very very slowly he felt Q relax into his warmth and touch. His sobs turned into a sigh and every now and then a hiccup. Relief passed through Bond. Whoever did this would pay dearly he swore to himself, as he felt Q go limp, his head resting on Bond's chest. Exhaustion had finally taken over. Q had mercifully passed out.

\---qb----

Bond had carried him out effortlessly. Thinking of how Q had wished for discretion in the first place, he decided not to bring him in to Medical, but straight to his own flat. He could still change his mind later, he had thought. Then he had washed Q carefully, cleaned his wounds and bandaged him more thoroughly than he would go about it, if it were himself. Afterwards he had tucked him in his bed with a lot of blankets. That had been yesterday.

\---qb----

When Q came to, he was disoriented. But as soon as he tried to move, pain shot through him, and he remembered in a flash. He looked around wildly as to find any clues where he were, but the bedroom showed no indication of his whereabouts. On impulse he wanted to run for the door, but then he heard movement outside, and when he realized in terror that he was naked underneath the blankets, he crawled to the head of the bed and leaned against it, legs curled up. Shaking, he waited.

The door knob turned silently and he stiffened, drawing the sheets and blankets tighter and bracing his arms around his knees. Bond entered the room and found a very pale and awake Q staring back at him.

"Good morning, Q. How are you feeling?" When Q's lips moved, but no sound emerged, Bond went on.

"I thought I heard something and wanted to check on you. Do you know where you are?" A curt head shake.

"My flat... I thought, maybe you didn't want to go to Medical for...this. But I can take you now, if that's what you prefer?! Or call them to get you?"

"No! Please don't!" Q let out imploringly.

"All right, all right! We'll stay then!" Bond soothed immediately, careful not to come closer. He leaned in the door frame instead.

"Are you hungry? You should eat something." Another shake of his head.

Bond noticed what a mess Q's hair was. If anything showed how bizarre the situation was, - sure, having the Quartermaster in his home and in his bed was strange - but the most disturbing part was the ruffled state his hair was in. Q usually took the utmost care to look put together. And now it all was forgotten. He didn't even speak, really. It just felt wrong. Bond felt a twinge in his chest. He never thought he'd wish for his snarky comments so badly.

"Let me at least make you some tea. - Earl Grey was it, right?" A slight nod. "Very well, I'll leave the door open. Just call if you need anything. Bathroom's over there, by the way!"

Bond gestured to the door and retreated to prepare the tea. Mistrustful eyes followed his movements. After a few minutes he heard the bathroom door close quietly.

\---qb----

Examining himself in the huge bathroom mirror, Q realized that Bond must have washed his whole body and treated his wound back...there. And it all happened with Q phenomenally passed out. He unvoluntarily shuddered.

Bond could have done _anything_ to him. Q didn't trust anybody on a good day. How was he supposed to handle this? He couldn't hide in here forever. He'd have to face Bond outside, and he wasn't even sure if he was glad to be here... At least MI6 still seemed ignorant of the incident. He had to give Bond that much credit. But in order to make the incident go away, he had to show up at MI6, and soon. The only ones involved so far were R and Bond. That'd be managable, if 007 didn't have his own mind. Maybe he could be blackmailed into silence with some new gadgets...

He braced himself and stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in the biggest towel he could find, only slightly shivering. Warily he made his way into the kitchen, where his tea was already waiting alongside a watchful James Bond.

"Erm. Thank you for helping me." He took the cup and positioned himself as far away from Bond as courtesy allowed.

"You're welcome. I've laid some clothes out for you on the bed. Yours are too dirty to be washed and used again."

"Thanks, again." He unconsciously drew the towel closer. "Listen, I'd appreciate it, if this could stay between us."

He only managed for a second to make eye-contact with Bond, who frowned at that, but didn't argue. Encouraged, he added:

"and could... could you drop me off at MI6?"

"Q, -" Bond started.

"After a stop at my flat?" He pleadingly looked up at Bond, trying to mask his insecurity.

Bond searchingly looked at his face, so he held the gaze.

"I'm fine, Bond."

"I doubt that." Bond answered with a raised eyebrow, leaning there with crossed arms.

"I can't change what happened, but I certainly don't want to indulge in fond memories of last night." He followed up with a quip, but it probably came across slightly bitter.

Still, it apparently was enough of the snarky behaviour he usually showed for Bond to be swayed. He didn't say something and just nodded. But that was just as well for Q. So he gulped down his tea and turned around to dress in the bedroom. Turning his back on Bond made his skin crawl, so he hurried out.

Noticing Q's shoulders and neck tense as he left, Bond remained where he was, arms crossed and thoughful. So Q wanted to act tough. That was actually typical Double-Oh, he mused. But with the Quartermaster, he would have to be very careful. He was different from a field agent and Bond wasn't sure, if Q could handle it. He'd have to watch out for any signs of cracks in his facade, but for now he'd let him be. He was an advocate of the unaffiliated choice of coping methods after all, thinking darky of the psychological department in MI6.

When Q was ready, they left and Bond made sure to lead the way in order not to linger behind Q at any time. They were silent during the drive. When Q got out at his flat to change into new work clothes, Bond stayed in the car. He had a feeling that Q wouldn't want him in there. It was around midday when they parked in the underground car park. As Q headed to the lift, he realized that Bond followed him and he turned on the spot.

"What are you doing?" Bond almost bumped into him, if not for his reflexes.

"Going in?"

"Aren't you on leave? - You don't have to follow me. In fact, don't follow me!"

"Well, but what if I want to!" He grinned mischievously, and before Q could dissolve in anger, he added:

"And besides, I'll have to report in for yesterday's occurrences, remember?" That shut Q up, his eyes going wide. "You forgot, didn't you? What would you have told them?!" Bond urged, disapproving of Q's lapse in foresight.

"I'm going to tell R that the door got jammed and instead of bothering for another way out, you lost yourself in work. That is how I found you. Then I brought you home without any of us reporting in, because we were too tired."

Gaping at Bond for the halfway reasonable explanation, Q wondered how often Bond had lied to them, with it coming out of his mouth so smoothly. But he was thankful for the suggestion, so he didn't ask.

"Right. So, let's go..."

Smirking, Bond led the way.


End file.
